


things that change (and things that don't)

by Starry_Fantasies (starfleur)



Series: when the world snippets [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: 2000 words of Sakumo messing around with wolves, Childhood Memories, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hatake Clan Feels, Hatake Clan headcanons, Humor, I love you guys so much, Sakumo feels, and for my readers because all of you are the best and I could not ask for better readers, anyways please enjoy, for ghoul-kun bc they asked for more of Sakumo's childhood, surprise im still alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 21:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleur/pseuds/Starry_Fantasies
Summary: 3 snapshots of Sakumo's life: because he grows and he learns and he changes, but he never forgets what his wolves teach him every time they play hunt.





	things that change (and things that don't)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aesoleucian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesoleucian/gifts).



> Please enjoy.

1\. Evasion

He’s sprinting along familiar paths, bare feet smacking the dirt thud-thud-thud and kicking up miniature clouds of dust. The trees are blurring past, and the wind is whipping at his cheeks, pulling at the hair that’s only just started to grow past his shoulders, and he bats low-hanging branches out of his eyes with practiced ease.

There’s a low growl behind him, staggered breathing that seems like it’s getting closer and closer, and he laughs breathlessly as he makes a sudden right, hand briefly wrapping against the rough trunk of a tree to change his direction, and hears a crash. A leap has him swinging from the branch of a tree just high enough to avoid the blur of white that lunges at him from the side, and he hits the ground running.

He doesn’t have enough breath to spare right now, so he can’t mock that failed attempt like its dismal execution deserves (really, they should know better by now), but he promises to tease Ayu mercilessly for it later. For now, he just basks in the exhilaration of fairly flying through the forest, of his arms and legs pumping so fast he hardly feels like he’s touching the ground.

“Haa…haa…”

He runs these woods almost every day now, so he should be used to the familiar burn in his muscles, but it’s been nearly an hour, and he’s starting to tire. Not slow—if he did _that_ , they’d catch him before the hour-mark, and then they’d never let it go—but his breathing is coming harsher, and he’s starting to feel a little numb.

It doesn’t stop him from smoothly side-stepping ambushes or taking wild detours through the forest, mapping out uncharted routes or swinging through the trees. His hair is clinging to his forehead, damp with sweat, and he spares a moment to wipe at his eyes.

A howl rings through the air, loud and clear, though distant, and he grins triumphantly even as he pumps his arms and legs even harder, egged on by this minor victory. That’s one hour already, so he’s halfway done, which means he can do a _lot_ more than just run now. He takes to the trees again—he’s in a denser part of the forest, where the trees are older, their trunks wide and their branches strong—and doubles back on his trail quietly but quickly. Whatever wind there was before has died down, and in the resultant silence, he hears clearly the sounds of his pursuer tearing through the undergrowth towards him—breathing as harsh as his own once was, thuds heavy against the ground, branches and leaves breaking and crinkling against the ground.

 _Three,_ he counts, forcing his breathing to stay slow and soft, _two…one_ , and then he jumps out of the tree and tackles Yuuma head-on. There’s a confused yelp before the wolf realizes what’s going on, and from there, it devolves into a whirlwind of limbs and teeth as each of them tries to wrestle the other into submission.

(Because the chase is half the fun of their game, but ambushes and fights are what they’re _really_ playing for)

It’s fairly evenly matched (the shock faster didn’t last as long as he’d hoped, but Yuuma’s greater physical strength is balanced by exhaustion compared to Sakumo, who’s had a chance to rest a little) until Hiroto joins in, and from then on it’s a free-for-all that drags in the rest of the wolves.

(Later, he smiles sheepishly at Miyu-oba-chan, the other pups behind him cowering from her stern glare, “Um…it was over two hours?”

It was over five hours, actually, and she whacks him gently over the head before ordering them to rinse up in the river. When he comes back, though, she’s waiting for him, and there’s a small burner set up in the center of the table, upon it a simmering pot of seasoned soup. In front of each of their seats is a bowl of rice, a pair of chopsticks, a sauce for dipping, and two dishes filled with perfectly thin slices of raw lamb and beef.

“It was over two hours,” Miyu-oba-chan concedes with a fond roll of her eyes when she sees him gaping at the shabu-shabu she promised him if he lasted more than two hours without the wolves dragging him home. “Now sit down and eat up, brat. This took me almost four hours to make, so if you leave even a grain of rice, you’re paying me back in blood.”

 _Four hours,_ he thinks, and can’t quite stop himself from grinning at her. It’s less grateful and more pleased silly, but she just rolls her eyes at him again.

“Itadakimasu,” she says, promptingly, and he hastily sits down and copies her before he digs in.

Miyu-oba-chan makes the _best_ shabu-shabu)

*

2\. Exploration

He keeps his ears pricked and his breathing steady and even. There’s dirt and grass and leaves caked everywhere on him, the sheddings of nature like a second skin on him, and in the absence of his own scent, it’s easy to pick up the smell of something distinctly human in the air amidst the muted smells of the wild. Carefully, he crawls forward, centimeter by centimeter, until he can just barely peek out over the edge of a small out-cropping. He’s thoroughly camouflaged against the cliff-face he’s been scouting for the past few hours, but his patience has paid off. There’s a lone campfire flickering barely five meters beneath him, a group of three clustered around it. 

There’s only one man on guard, nodding off with eyes half-shut, and the other two are sleeping soundly, soft snores emanating from where their sleeping bags are arranged. Understandable—they seem to be only civilians, with no ulterior motives, and the border between River and Fire is relatively free of human and animal threats alike. 

His final check completed, he withdraws. He’s been following them for the past several days, pulling out every trick he's ever learned from play-hunting with his wolves since childhood, unwilling to mess up his first solo mission, but with how familiar he now is with their behaviors and the surrounding area, it’s the work of only a few minutes to silently crawl down the hillside, circle around the small camp to test for any traps (there are none, as usual), and then knock out the man on watch. He rifles through their belongings silently but efficiently, making note of everything in the dim, flickering light cast by the fire and removing all the documents he comes across. The rest is given a brief examination—rations, a few low-quality weapons, amidst other things—before he returns them to their original position.

By the time dawn has arrived, he’s already halfway home. The trio of suspected spies are left alive—they will not pass the borders without proper documentation, not with their skills, and the patrols will take care of the rest. The scrolls he does not touch, but he skims over the loose sheets of paper even though he’s technically not supposed to. What he reads isn’t comprehensive or even vaguely damning—meticulously taken notes on Fire Country’s environment and the trees in their forests—and he feels a vague sort of sympathy for the person who must have spent hours compiling such information, but nonetheless hands the products of his mission over without hesitation to his commander.

“Well done, especially for your first solo mission,” the man smiles at him, clapping him on the shoulder. “You should receive your pay within the week. Good work today.”

“Thanks,” he grins back, and sketches a quick, half-bow before he leaves. “See you tomorrow, Commander.”

“Doors are meant to be _used_ , soldier!” is shouted out through the window after him, and he tucks his hands into his pockets as he ambles home, whistling.

He’s looking forward to a hot bath.

3\. Enjoyment

He walks down familiar, well-trodden paths, patiently ducking beneath branches now too low for him to run beneath. It’s been a few years since he last found the time or will to train in these woods, but his feet lead him through the gaps in the trees until his mental map of the forest starts returning to him. He’s not seeking out any place in particular—more wandering, with no clear goal in mind—but snatches of memories flit across his mind as he ambles past certain places (distant shrieks of laughter, the rapid pattering of feet and paws on dirt, being tangled in a mess of limbs and muscles covered in skin and fur alike).

He pauses in front of one memorable giant log, now covered in moss, marked by the ditch half a meter wide and a full meter deep just behind it, and grins. It was one of his favorite places to launch an ambush from, waiting until the wolves leaped over the log before tackling them mid-air, and even when they started to learn what to expect, it was successful at least three times out of four (Ayu fell for it every time, he recalls smugly, and a little wistfully, for the wolf he hadn’t seen since he was nine).

There’s a soft huff behind him, the soft crunch of a leaf underfoot.

Sakumo doesn’t startle (they’ve been following him since the beginning), but he half-turns, a smile playing at his lips.

“Remembering how many times I annihilated you using that hideaway?” he teases, voice quiet, and Byakuran huffs at him in offense.

“Excuse you, I seem to recall wiping the floor with you every single time you didn’t have the element of surprise on your side,” the wolf grumbles.

“Which was almost never from what I remember,” Yuri points out beside him, a smug undertone to her voice. Sakumo’s smile blossoms into a full-on grin of amusement as Yuri continues, “Sakumo was always a sneaky little bastard in our games.”

“It was the only way I could ever win, when it was all of you against me!” Sakumo protests half-heartedly, laughing as both Byakuran and Yuri all but roll their eyes at him.

“You’re never anywhere near as clever on your missions, from what I hear,” Byakuran says pointedly. “And if you say it’s because you’re skilled enough that you no longer need it, you have another thing coming for you.”

“Certainly not you, in your old age?” Sakumo teases, and then yelps, automatically diving out of the way just in time to avoid Byakuran tackling him.

“Watch your tongue, cub; I was hunting before you were born!” Byakuran sends him an affronted glare, voice indignant, and Yuri laughs delightedly, pouncing on Sakumo before he can react.

“We’re playing hunt again then?” she all but sparkles in joy, shoving her snout into Sakumo’s face. “We are, aren’t we?”

He can’t say no in the face of her clear glee, so he just nods, laughing as she attacks his face with happy licks.

“Just the three of us, hm?” Byakuran muses. “Shall we summon the others for old times’ sake or will you not be able to handle more than two of us at once?”

There’s a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and Sakumo knows he’s falling right into his trap even as he protests, “Who do you think I am?! I can definitely handle more than the two of you!”

“Ohoho,” Byakuran grins wolfishly at him. “Well then, what are you waiting for? Summon them; there’s hours yet until sunset. Let’s see how long you can last against ten of us.”

Sakumo bolts as soon as he’s summoned the others, leaving Byakuran and Yuri to explain to them what’s going on. There’s a grin splitting his face, excitement thrumming within his veins—it’s been so long since they’ve last played hunt, and so much has changed since then: abilities, paths, strategies…

And yet, as a hunting howl starts up behind him, he knows one thing will stay the same.

He’s _definitely_ still going to win.

**Author's Note:**

> And then it turns into a free-for-all brawl and no one is quite certain who wins (if anyone wins at all) but literally everyone maintains that they wiped the floor with literally everyone else.
> 
> :P anyways, the first two parts I wrote a while ago as one of my many drafts of some chapter or another, I forget, but since Aesoleucian and I were crying over Nanako and the Hatake Clan and all my readers have been so supportive of how much I adore the Hatake Clan and encouraging me to share my headcanons, have some more pointless fluff :3
> 
> Please review. Feel free to ask any questions. Thank you for reading.


End file.
